Bucket List
by innercornerhighlight
Summary: "You don't have a list?" "Of what?" "Of the the adventures you're going to have before you die!" One-Shot. AU.


"Excuse me."

The redhead's attention eagerly flit away from her _fascinating_ reading on excavation techniques (she loved archaeology with every ounce of her being, but reading about removing things from the ground was not the most fun thing in the world). Cloudy jade eyes drifting to an unfamiliar face that was so astonishingly perfect it could've belonged to a marble bust she might've extracted during fieldwork, she contained a gasp.

"Yes?"

He looked surprised that she had answered in an assertive tone caked with casual disinterest, as if he weren't used to being addressed in such a manner and didn't really know what to say in response.

"I believe you are sitting at my table".

Her eyes widened. _His_ table?

"I sit here every day, buddy, you can check the security tapes if you want!"

Sighing defeatedly, his fingers grazed jet black curls before eyes the color of molten gold flickered to her face and back to the table. She noticed a coat and a black bag draped over the chair across from her.

Oops. Maybe this was his table.

"Perhaps you do, but I placed my belongings on this chair a little while ago to claim this table for myself," he explained quietly, "I simply left to collect some books".

The redhead observed him, intelligent eyes gleaming with curiosity. She read the spines of the books in his grasp, all volumes on linguistics, a Latin textbook on top.

Interesting. A hot linguist. (Maybe he could talk dirty in Latin).

He was undoubtedly one of the most handsome boys she had ever seen in her life, and that posh English accent and clearly expensive cashmere sweater gave him an air of refinery.

But she noted the beads of sweat forming at his brow, the way he kept throwing nervous glances over his shoulder, how he seemed to be trying to tuck himself away and occupy as little space as possible. Everything about the boy's body language screamed "LEAVE ME ALONE".

The redhead's pink lips curved into a smirk. She didn't really want to leave him alone.

"Why don't we share the table?" She invited warmly, gesturing towards the empty seat, coppery ponytail swinging between her shoulder blades.

She watched him lick his lips anxiously, eyes locking onto hers. He breathed through his nose, and pulled out the seat, flinching at its shrill creak as it scratched the pale wooden floors of the Tozzer Library, awkwardly easing himself onto the seat.

She wanted to giggle. He was cute.

"What's your name?"

"Vikram. Vikram Kabra."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Hope."

"You hope what?"

"No, doofus, my _name_ is Hope."

"Oh."

For the next two weeks, Hope saw Vikram every day. Sometimes she'd be there first, rifling through pages and pages of notes written in bright purple ink, before he silently slipped into the seat across from her, sneaking her a cheeky grin.

Other times, he would get there early and do his Latin exercises, sneaking looks over his shoulder to see if she was making her way towards him. She always manages to sneak up on him though, surprising him with a tap on the shoulder and a 'BOO!' that led Hope to learn a legion of exciting British curse words.

"So you study archaeology, then?"

Hope looked up, startled by the sound of his voice. Two weeks studying at the same table and he hadn't offered her more than a "good afternoon" or "see you later". He was even meeting her gaze!

"Are you okay, dude?"

He looked startled by her question, eyebrows drawing into a frown. He was even handsome when he _frowned_.

"I am excellent, why?"

Hope giggled at his puzzled expression.

"Well, you've never tried to start a conversation, I thought you might be dying or something".

"If I were dying, you think I would _ask you if you study archaeology_?"

"I don't know, maybe one of the things on your list was to talk to the super hot girl with the cool ass boots!"

Hope swung her leg sideways, giving Vikram a view of her red vinyl ankle boots. She noticed him blush, cinnamon skin tinged pink.

"Sorry, what 'list'?"

Hope stared at Vikram incredulously, jaw popping open ever so slightly.

"You _don't_ have a list?"

"Of what?"

"Of the the adventures you're going to have before you die!"

Vikram shook his head, placing the Montblanc pen he had been grasping in his left hand on the table. He was enthralled.

"Oh my god, no way, Vikram! You gotta have a bucket list! Here, I'll show you mine."

Vikram watched the red headed girl pull a glittery silver memo pad covered in stickers out of her backpack. He watched her eyes twinkle with mirth, the most vivid shade of green, full to the brim with a lust for life and a childish innocence he coveted.

"Okay so there's like hundreds of things on my list, but here are some of my favorites!"

Vikram chuckled as she cleared her throat theatrically, sitting up straight in her chair. Delicate fingers, fingernails coated in chipped yellow nail polish, pretended to adjust an imaginary pair of glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.

"Eat at every single kebab place in Cambridge-"

"Make our in front of the Eiffel Tower, like in one of those pictures everyone takes, you know-"

"go on a hot air balloon ride-"

"and plant an oak tree!"

Vikram hadn't realized how hard he'd been smiling. He stopped as soon as he realized, but it had been too late.

"Wow, I didn't know you could smile!"

Vikram feigned confusion.

"I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about".

"You make jokes, too! This is all too much for one afternoon!"

"Well, anything would be too much for someone who's goal is to plant an _oak tree_ ".

Hope pretended to be offended by his harmless teasing, slamming her book shut.

"Just for that, you're going to buy me a kebab, mister".

And so in addition to their daily study dates, they started having their weekly kebab dates.

"How do you like this week's kebab?"

Hope wolfed down her last two bites, licking bits of sauce off her greasy fingers.

"I'm not gonna lie, I liked last week's place better, I liked the seasoning of their meat better".

"I like this week's seasoning! I don't really like the tomatoes though, ugh, I forgot to say no tomatoes".

"It's funny you don't like tomatoes, I like tomatoes".

"Meh, I like tomatoes on pizza, but that's it".

"I like anything on pizza, really, except pineapples".

"I like pineapples!"

"I like you".

Vikram took a deep breath, the way he just took a chance. He watched the carefree smile on her face drop, and she peered at him curiously from under that haze of lashes, green eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Oh no, did he say the wrong thing? He always said the wrong thing. . .

"I like you too".

A shy smile took residence on Hope's pretty features, and for the first time he saw her look bashful. Bloody hell, she was cute.

Two months after, they boarded a flight together (coach, to Vikram's annoyance, after Hope insisted). She felt asleep on his shoulder, and he grumbled as he attempted to adjust his long legs into the jokingly small legroom that had been provided.

Seven hours later, Hope looped an arm through his, tugging him into a taxi she had flagged down with her admirable determination and godawful French. (Someone needed to get that girl a tutor).

As the taxi came to a smooth stop, Vikram tossed the driver fifty euro, and felt Hope thread her fingers through his.

"Come on, come on, the lights are going to go on in a couple minutes, we have to run!"

And run they did. Vikram was out of breath by the time they reached the base of the Eiffel Tower, skirting around crowds of people. But goddamn, it didn't really matter, because whether he was running or not, she took his breath away, anyway.

"We made it, the lights are about to go off, quick, kiss me, kiss me!"

"I don't need to be told twice!"

She yanked Vikram down by the collar, tugging him into a passionate kiss, arms wrapped around his neck, illuminated by the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. He dipped her downwards, arms fastened around her waist, as she comically 'popped' her leg.

Laughing, she pulled away, before jumping into his arms and nuzzling her face in his coat.

"So I think I'm in love with you".

Vikram felt his heart flutter. A warm feeling spread through his chest, and suddenly he couldn't feel the Parisian cold against his skin anymore.

"You think?"

Vikram raised an accusatory eyebrow, placing Hope back on the ground, folding his arms in a playful challenge.

"Wow, okay, rude, yeah, I'm definitely not in love with you, buddy".

Hope jokingly began to walk the other way, before Vikram grabbed her hand, planting a kiss on her nose.

"Shame, because I am definitely in love with you".

Six months later, in the middle of finals week, he suggested they go to the park.

"Baby, I haven't even started my term paper yet, and it's due tomorrow!"

"I know, love, but a little break will do you good, I promise".

"Fine."

Hope grumbled as she slipped on one of Vikram's shirts over a pair of leggings, hair in the messiest of buns. Vikram thought she looked like a goddess.

She yawned as they walked down the street, and Hope shot him a look of confusion as they walked past their regular park.

"We're not going to the park, are we?"

"You are correct".

"Damn it, I should've dressed nicer, if you're taking me to meet your parents or something, I swear to god".

Vikram grimaced. He feared the day he would have to let his parents meet Hope. They were truly awful people. Mother's heart was as cold as the diamonds that encrusted her fingers, and the only time Father had told him he loved him was...well...never.

"Don't worry, you're going to love it".

And love it she did. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as they turned a corner and she saw hot air balloons as far as the eye could see, brightly colored against the grass.

"Oh my god, Vikram, you didn't!"

"I did!"

He grinned as she peppered his face with kisses, squealing a string of "thank you"s and "I love you"s and "best adventure ever"s.

The couple were informed of the safety measures that were in place, before they were led into an electric blue balloon with rings of yellow. As the balloon slowly rose from the ground, Hope screamed in delight, leaning on the edge.

Vikram's arms encircled her waist, and as she drank in the Boston skyline, he drank her in, hair whipping against the wind, a rich dark red, perfect lips outstretched in a breathtaking smile, eyes sparkling with excitement.

That's how he remembered her.

That's how he remembered her when two years later she broke his heart and went to chase her dreams in Istanbul.

That's how he remembered her when she walked down the aisle into the arms of another man, happy as happy could be.

That's how he remembered her when she had his children, while he was barely allowed to see his own.

And that's how he remembered her when she died.

* * *

"Good afternoon".

He sat down across her gravestone, laying the hefty bouquet of purple peonies at their base. Tears sprung to his eyes, as his voice seemed to leave his throat. He sat in silence for nearly an hour, tears running down his face, each one a broken promise, an apology, a joke, a proclamation of undying love.

"I'm sorry, Hope, I'm so sorry".

His fingers wrapped around the oak plant he had brought with him, he wordlessly began to dig a small hole in front of her gravestone, before he planted the tree, patting the dirt down with his hands. He smiled wistfully, wiping away a tear.

"At least you got to finish your bucket list though, I always knew you would, love".

He sighed, lower lip quivering.

"You know why I never had one of my own? Because being with you was the only adventure I ever needed".

He gulped, pulling the glittery notebook out of his back pocket, placing a kiss on the cover, gripping it tightly in his fist as he slowly stood up.

"Goodbye, Hope. I'll see you on our next adventure".


End file.
